


A Logical Argument

by walkandtalk



Series: A Logical Match 'verse [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Arguing, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Makeup Sex, Mind Meld, Romance, Space Husbands, purple vegetarian meatloaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 05:01:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkandtalk/pseuds/walkandtalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It should come as no great surprise that the start of Jim’s life as Spock’s bondmate was a month-long fight.</p><p>Set just after A Logical Match (probably could stand alone).</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Logical Argument

It should come at no great surprise that the start of Jim’s life as Spock’s bondmate was a month-long fight.  Their entire relationship was born out of a heated academic hearing, reinforced by a brawl on the bridge, and while neither party will admit to it, it is suspected by the admiralty that the only reason Spock applied for the position of First Officer under the command of James Tiberius Kirk was the result of an angry debate-turned-martial arts match in the Academy gymnasium.  The pair thrived in the challenge, were a stronger team because of it.

They always had disagreements and arguments of a professional nature.  Spock considered it part of his job description to (logically) point out the errors of his Captain’s thinking.  Jim considered it his job to (briefly) consider these arguments, sometimes bow to the (logically) superior point of view or sometime not.  It was a Captain’s prerogative, and Spock would always support his Captain’s decisions.  That was also part of Spock’s job.

Fighting as a bonded couple, however, was something different entirely.

It was unfortunate that it took Jim a month to realize that they were even having a fight, and when he finally noticed, most of the crew would later speak of the event as That Time With The Turbo Lift.  Spock knew they were fighting.  Uhura knew they were fighting.  However, it took Jim 25.6 days to realize that he was in the midst of a marital tiff.

\---

When Spock (logically) suggested that his bondmate try meditating with him, Jim took him up on it.  Spock was adept at shielding his thoughts from Jim, but Jim could neither shield his thoughts nor block Spock’s on his own, leaving Jim a proverbial open book to his bondmate at most hours of the day.  Spock seemed to take this, like everything else, in stride but acknowledged that Jim, like all beings, needed some privacy.

Spock tried to instruct Jim in Vulcan meditation, with the incense and the lamp and the statues and the mantras, but just when Jim was approaching the “zen zone” he would lose focus.  Jim would think of a tree, growing, stretching to the sky, and then suddenly be reminded of their last away mission’s atmospheric readings.  He would be a sphere, growing and shrinking with each breath, like a balloon, and then he would think about balloons, and think about birthdays, and then he’d think about Chekov’s upcoming birthday, and then he would think about what to get Chekov, and that made him think of--

“ _Focus_ ,” Spock murmured, patient as ever, eyes closed and still deep within his own zen zone.  Jim could tell, because the bond was wide open and it felt as if Spock had descended into a deep zen pit, meters below where Jim’s mind was, and only echos of Spock-ness were drifting up from it.

“Sorry,” Jim muttered, finding his way back to the zen zone.  He was rain water, falling softly from the clouds onto the earth, slowly moving through the layers of earth, then layers of rock, and then what was the name of that mineral they found in the soil samples that Spock was talking about at dinner yesterday?

“Matangenite,” Spock said, an edge of weariness creeping into his voice for the first time since they had started meditating together.  Jim peered back at Spock, whose eyes were now open and not looking exasperated at Jim’s consistent lack of focus.

“Lets face it, it’s not my thing, Spock,” Jim said.  “I’m not the meditating type.”

“It will take time,” Spock said knowledgeably.  “You have increased your duration of concentration by fifty-three percent.”

When one started out at zero, any increase would seem substantial, Jim thought.  Spock’s brow furrowed slightly, picking up on Jim’s negative thoughts.  “Jim, it is not unusual for Humans to struggle.  You are doing admirably under unusual circumstances.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Jim said, frustration bubbling within himself, feeling it bleed over to Spock, which made him feel even worse.  “Just- close it up for me, will you?”

Spock immediately closed the mental door on their bond, effectively silencing the emotional transference from Spock.  Jim could relax a little, not feeling a duality of emotion when he was this frayed.  He reached over to run a finger over Spock’s hand.  “We will try again tomorrow?” he asked, tired eyes pleading.

Spock moved his hand to capture Jim’s finger in his grasp, squeezing the digit affectionately.  “Yes.”

Jim tugged his finger out of Spock’s grasp and grazed two fingers against Spock’s own in ozh’esta, a Vulcan kiss, projecting love and comfort.  “You finish your meditation, I’m going to my quarters.  See you later?”  Spock nodded and Jim stood to make his way to “his” quarters through their adjoining bathroom.  He settled into the couch, looking fondly over at a shelf that contained a few of Spock’s personal items that had migrated into the Captain’s quarters, waiting contentedly for its owner to join him.

\----

Jim and Scotty were sitting in the mostly deserted mess, having a late lunch.  Well, Jim was having a late lunch, this was when Scotty usually seemed to eat, when he remembered to eat.  Scotty was chewing his ham sandwich, staring at Jim’s Purple Vegetarian Meatloaf with distaste.

“Spock eats it all the time,” Jim said defensively.  “Doesn’t taste half bad, kinda like corned beef and carrots.”

“Don’t mean it’s half good,” Scotty muttered suspiciously.  “Are you becoming a vegetarian, Captain?”

Jim paused, looking down at food.  Why did he pick this?  “No, just trying something new.”  He was about to eat another forkful when Uhura unceremoniously dropped her tray onto the table and sat down.

“Lieutenant,” Scotty said amicably, wide grin on his face.  “Pleasure seein’ you here.”

Uhura shot a narrow look at Scotty before turning to Jim.

“You need to make up with Spock.”

Jim blinked.  “Sorry?”

“I promised I wouldn’t get in the middle of this weeks ago, but as you haven’t fixed it, and _he_ ,” Uhura tilted her head to the Engineer, “hasn’t said anything more about it, I’m communicating to you in simple words: stop torturing Spock and consolidate your damn quarters.  I can't stand his moping when you fight.”

Jim was dumbstruck.  He looked over at Scotty, who had drawn up the plans while he and Spock were on New Vulcan, never mind that he and Spock weren’t down there to get bonded, well, one of them was but that was neither here nor there.  “We talked about Scotty’s designs.  Spock was okay with delaying it a while.  We’re going to do it when we dock for repairs,” he said, looking at Scotty for backup.  Scotty merely chewed on his sandwich, offering a grin.  “We aren’t fighting, I think I’d know if we were.”

“He didn’t say that he agreed,” Uhura pointed out.

“Well, no,” Jim said, trying to see the point she was making.  “But he didn’t disagree.  He’s fine with it, and if he wasn’t, he’d tell me.”

Uhura stared at him, one eyebrow raised in an eerie imitation of Spock.  Jim wondered if he would pick that up, too, over time.  “He would tell me if it was a problem,” Jim reiterated.  She looked unconvinced.

“You know, Captain,” Scotty said casually over a mouthful of sandwich, crumbs flying everywhere, “it wouldn’t take more than a few hours to remove the auxiliary walls between your and the Commander’s quarters.”

Jim nodded.  The ship was designed to be easily remodeled, entire decks could be reconfigured in a couple days.  “No, that’s fine.  We both decided to wait.”

Scotty shrugged and moved to dump his dishes in the recycler.  “Fine with me, Captain.  I imagine Mr. Spock needs his space.”

Uhura watched Scotty retreat and then pinned Jim down with a firm look that didn’t bode well.  “No, he doesn’t.”

Jim pushed his tray away and planted his elbows in front of Uhura, all business.  “Lieutenant, if there is something that Commander Spock neglected to relay, please, speak up.  But if there is something that my bondmate specifically asked you to not to interfere in, I’m going to ask you to stay out of it.”  There, that sounded both mature and confident, despite the niggling seed of doubt that Uhura had now planted.  He and Spock were adults and if there was a problem, neither needed Spock’s ex girlfriend to butt in, no matter how uncannily correct she usually was.

Uhura stilled, and nodded carefully.  “Yes, Captain.  My apologies, it won’t happen again.”

\-----

True to her word, she did not bring up this supposed problem that Jim supposedly needed to fix.  However, she did send him an article on modern Vulcan residential architecture that day.  Intrigued in spite of himself, Jim settled down in his ready room and read the article, trying to glean the message that Uhura was trying to send him without saying it.  Halfway through, when he thought he had it figured out, the object of the hidden message walked in the door bearing crewman applications for their five year mission.

“Spock, how big do you want our bedroom to be?” Jim asked before Spock could sit down.  Spock stood in the doorway, a blank look on his face.  The bond was firmly cut off, as was Spock’s practice during work hours, not giving away a bit of confusion.

“Because I’m reading here,” Jim continued, waving the PADD in the air, “that Vulcans prefer small, separate bedrooms with large, open living spaces.”

Spock nodded slowly, making his way to his customary seat.  “I have become accustomed to both standard Vulcan and Human styles of quarters.”  What a perfect non answer.

“It also says here that when adults bond, a home is customarily prepared in advance by the families, as bondmates are not expected to cohabitate before or live apart once bonded.  It’s a- oh wait, how did they word it here- _paramount for the encouragement of healthy bond development between telsu_ ,” Jim read, looking back up at Spock sharply.  “Any opinions on that?”

Spock nodded, as if they were playing a moderately interesting game of Vulcan Trivial Pursuit.  “While unusual, couples may maintain separate domiciles if their careers would not permit joint habitation.”

“Even when they live on the same ship?” Jim countered, eyes narrowing, knowing Spock could feel Jim’s anger loud and clear by now.

Spock paused, and shook his head slightly.

“Well, great!” Jim said brightly, hoisting himself out of his chair and out the door.  “I'm so glad we were able to clear this up.  I’ll just tell Scotty to get started on the renovation.  The rooms should be ready before Gamma shift.” And he walked onto the bridge and was standing outside the turbo lift before he sensed that Spock was following him.  Jim entered the lift without looking back, but could feel Spock behind him before he saw a long arm reach over his shoulder and engage the emergency stop.

Jim turned around and had to look up a little, as Spock and he were almost toe to toe.  “Is there something you wanted to tell me, or do you need a minute to share it with Uhura, first?”  Petty?  Yes.  But Jim thought they were beyond this kind of bullshit.

Spock narrowed his eyes.  “I must reiterate that your wish to delay the combining our of living quarters until the Enterprise docked was not unduly distressing to me.”

“Unduly distressing,” Jim repeated, disbelieving.  “Dammit, Spock,  you have an all access pass to frolic around in my brain, but you turn around and hold back on me sometimes.  If you preferred joint quarters sooner than later, if it would make you happier-- no, don’t argue with me about that-- then you should have said so.”

“Weighing my desire to remove two auxiliary walls against your discomfort towards cohabitation, I came to the conclusion you may appreciate having time to adjust to our future living arrangements.”

“My discomfort?!” Jim yelled, and Spock backed up a half step.  “When did I ever say I was uncomfortable with living with you?  I was the one that brought it up in the first place, remember?!”

“In the 10.4 years you have lived outside your childhood home, you have never shared quarters with another person, even while a cadet,” Spock said stiffly.

“No, I haven’t,” Jim said, lowering his voice to Spock’s more dignified level.  “But none of them have been _you_.  You are not just anyone, you are part of me, always here.” He said, gesturing to his head.  “That means something, you know?”

Spock looked distinctly uncomfortable.  “Precisely.  You have not been able to master the bond as of yet, and your access to mental privacy and equanimity are, unfortunately, limited,” Spock said.  Jim felt a frisson of frustration again at that.  He was _trying_ , and knew that Spock would be happier if Jim could just close the bond himself.  “I thought you would appreciate retaining your physical space for privacy, as I cannot provide you with mental solitude.”

“To do what, exactly?” Jim said, offended by what Spock was implying.  “You think I need to escape _you_?  That I am unhappy with being connected to _you_?”

“Humans are unused to--”

“No,” Jim interrupted, pointing a finger in Spock’s face, voice getting louder. “We are not talking about Humans, we are talking about you and me.  I  am not uncomfortable with our bond.  I am trying to control it, and I know it leaves me vulnerable, but I am trusting you to protect me, because that’s the only reason why any of this can work, Spock.  If I trust you.”

“I know you do,” Spock whispered, pained.  “I know, ashayam.”

Spock reached out to Jim’s face, just hovering, asking permission.  Jim pressed the waiting hand against his face, could feel the yearning feeling eminating from his bondmate.  “Open for me,” Jim commanded.

Jim could feel waves of emotion and thought, like chords that made up a song or lines of code.  He was almost fluent in them now, could read Spock’s mental landscape easily, find what he was looking for quickly.  Fear, followed by regret- for their bonding?   _For the weight of the burden you must carry, unprepared,_ Spock’s mind whispered.   _You could not have known, when you agreed.  I was selfish to not anticipate how difficult it would be for you to bond with me._  His words were colored with those strands of feelings, how Spock loved him, cherished him.

Jim agreed that was was unprepared to understand what bonding meant.  To have Spock privy to every odd stray thought, every ugly or embarrassing feeling was difficult, at times.  Difficult, but worth it.  Jim projected that acceptance, the many moments he treasured being that close to another person, to Spock.   _I have made my choice, so let me choose you, choose this._

Gently, their minds disengaged.  Spock dropped his forehead against Jim’s, eyes closed.  “You were being illogical,” Jim accused, rubbing the fingers still pressed against his face.  Spock’s lips quirked and he nodded.

“I concede that my logic was built upon false premises.”  Not quite an  _you were right, I was wrong, dear_ , but Jim could hear it for what it was. _  
_

Jim caught himself raising an eyebrow, and then stopped because, damn, that idiosyncrasy wasn’t something Jim was going to adopt just yet.  “Damn right it was.  Next time you have a problem with something, you come to me.  Now, let's stop being stupid and let Scotty knock down some walls.”

“Agreed.”  Spock gave a small sigh, perhaps imagining what other ideas Scotty might have, if allowed to send the engineering team to do demolition work.  

“So, we just had our first fight as a couple,” Jim said, grinning a little.  Spock looked a little wary, possibly sensing the quicksilver change in Jim’s mood.  “You know what that means, in Terran culture?”

“No,” Spock said blandly, but could not repress the slight answering ripple of interest from Jim’s wave of lust before Spock snapped the bond closed.  Jim stepped forward, accepting the unvoiced challenge, effectively trapping Spock against the wall of the turbo lift.

“Our first round of makeup sex,” Jim said, sinking down to his knees, eye level with the closures of Spock’s pants.

“Our quarters--” Spock protested.

“Nope,” Jim said, hands reaching for the first button, then the next. “It’s a Human tradition.  As soon as the argument is over, the winning party gets apology sex.”

“And who is the winner in this circumstance?” Spock said, resting against a bulkhead, flushing green, eyes peering down in an expression that could only be interpreted as tacit permission.

“That’s the beautiful part of this tradition,” Jim said, breath ghosting over newly exposed sensitive flesh.  “Everyone’s a winner.”  Spock shivered once, then bodily drug Jim up to pin him against the opposite wall, clever fingers returning the favor.

Their lovemaking was quick, but still tender, reassuring.  Careful attention was given to Spock’s lips, then his hands. Teeth and tongue and lips and words sent heat burning along the bond.  Jim could sense his sa-telsu was breaking down, Spock's mental barrier opening wider with every chip to his self-control.  Jim loved this part as much as he loved undressing Spock, if not more.  More than the hands, Spock’s brain was Jim’s favorite erogenous zone. Jim took an evil delight in sending teasing images to Spock, seeing his breath hitch or face flush, observing and cataloguing every reaction, hoarding the knowledge to use it again in the privacy of their quarters.  How could he not revel in the feeling of sensations and emotions compounded and rebounded through their connection?  It was intimacy Jim would never feel with another.

Oddly, it was on the floor of the turbolift, Spock’s body cradling behind him, feeling whole and loved, that it finally happened.  Spock brushed his fingers against Jim’s face, sending those familiar sparks of light, and Jim could see it.  See the bond, a ribbon that connected Jim to Spock and back again.  Jim could caress it with his mind, send the sparks back to Spock.

Spock stilled.  “You are there,” he said softly.  “Close it.”

So Jim imagined a door, a forcefield cutting across the ribbon, and for the first time in a month, Jim’s mind was completely his own.  It was disconcerting at first, and then Jim realized that he could still feel something in the back corner of his mind.  A bright, Spockish something, quiet and warm.  So, no, his mind was never completely his own.  That was good, Jim decided, and opened the mental door again, just because he wanted to.

“I did it,” Jim said, out of breath and relieved.  Spock merely nodded, fingers carding through Jim’s hair.

“I didn’t have to be a tree in the wind or a kite in the air,” Jim said incredulously, stifling a chuckle.  “I just needed makeup sex.”

Spock merely huffed, a ripple of amusement sang along the bond.

\----

“I must point out, I do not, nor would ever, _frolic_ in your mind,” Spock said mildly, watching Jim zip his pants back up and run his fingers through his hair. He'd need a shower. Spock, of course, didn't have a hair out of place.

“No,” Jim said smugly, patting Spock’s arm.  “You are too dignified for that.”  Jim disengaged the emergency stop button.  Instead of the turbolift resuming its journey to Engineering, the doors immediately opened to a bewildered Scotty and two Ensigns from his department.

“Scotty!” Jim said, waltzing out of the lift, smacking his Chief Engineer on the arm.  “Spock and I were just looking for you.  Say, can you and your two boys knock down those walls in my room before dinner?  Yes?  Great!”  With that, Jim took off down the hall, leaving Spock in the corridor with Scotty.

“Was the turbolift broken, sir?” Scotty asked, peering inside the lift, wondering if something inside might indicate why the turbo lift was stuck for thirty minutes and no one hailed for him earlier.

“My apologies, Mr. Scott,” Spock said in a clipped tone.  “The Captain and I were finishing a conversation that could not be interrupted.”

“Well next time, don’t disable part of my ship to do it,” Scotty said, disgruntled, then his face brightened immediately.  “But you know how you could make it up to me, Mr. Spock?”

Spock eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

“I have an idea for a new bathroom for the new quarters and-”

“No, Mr. Scott,” Spock said firmly.

“Commander, I think you will find it a vast improvement over--”

“Just the walls for now, Mr. Scott.  Submit your suggestion to the Captain, and we may review at a later time.”  With that, Spock stalked down the corridor to find his sa-telsu, hoping to confront him about being abandoned to defend their actions to fellow senior officer.

The argument that would ensue would be well worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be one of a handful of very SHORT one-shots that would be tied in a bow. But this one just turned out to be a little more.. "more" than I expected.
> 
> Thank you dear readers, as ever, for any comments/feedback. I have some more stories in mind, and I'm open to suggestions. I've got a request for a flashback to a special Chekov family Easter already planned in my head *waves to sealy*
> 
> Have a beautiful day.


End file.
